Frère Jockstrap and The Rutabaga

“Frère Jockstrap!” “The Rutabaga!”

That’s how brothers Jacques and Rudy make

their greetings every morning to each other right

before they set again into their lucrative set-to:

get underfoot and over-thigh, beyond this elbow

or that knee or ankle, therefrom to an ear or nose

or chin, thence to the bumps upon their stumpy feet

that pass for toes – all those and other body parts

now inexhaustibly resume their arts of tangling back

into whatever Gordian knot they’d disentangled from

the day before, a set-to at which they are whizzes

at sustaining new extremities of stark intractability,

so photogenically alluring they’ve become a “thing”:

and more, the single sight sight-seers snap a photo of

on Comte Le Cocq Archipelago where they happily

reside in the LeVance Merganser Sea just off

the coast of lovely Southern Bummersby.

And yo! Physicists are wide-eyed at the calculus

implied in the exertions Jacques and Rudy daily

now abide! The equations of entanglement in

the fraternity of Frère Jockstrap and The Rutabaga

irrefutably have proven to explain Eternity!

.